The car door slammed shut like the final word in an argument Roman hadn't even started yet.
He adjusted his tie with a flick of his fingers, but the silk felt suffocating now, like a noose around a decision he couldn't undo. The Dankworth Estate loomed ahead, its white-stone columns gleaming under the late afternoon sun, pristine and unforgiving.
All around him, staff buzzed in fast, choreographed movements, hauling floral arrangements, fine crystal, and rows of white chairs. The scent of roses, earth, and tension clung to the air.
His breath hitched. His heart pounded. And for the first time in days, he actually felt the weight of what he was about to do.
He hadn't even been the one to sign the contract. A model with the same build and polished look had done it on his behalf. Just another pawn in his carefully designed game.
Now, though… standing here on the front line, the reality pressed in.
The question he'd buried beneath arrogance and strategy echoed in his head like a bell toll. Was this the right decision?
"Hey… breathe," Mike's voice cut through like a blade, steadying. "You know, it's not too late. We can shut this whole circus down right now."
Roman turned to him, his jaw tight, breath shallow. "You're not helping."
Mike shrugged, eyes narrowed. "Oh, good. That means you do realize this is madness." He motioned to the estate with a sarcastic flair. "So? Can we go home now?"
Before Roman could respond, a crisp voice sliced through the heavy air.
"A coward, I see."
They turned. A tall man in an immaculately tailored navy suit approached, every step calculated. His smile was cool, smug, and surgical.
"Excuse me?" Roman's voice sharpened, his ego flaring.
The man offered a hand. "Peter Dankworth. Athena's older brother."
Roman's eyes narrowed. The name struck like an insult dressed in velvet. Still, he took the hand and returned the gesture. "Roman… Knight," he said with a half-smile, pausing just long enough for Peter to notice.
The two men shook hands, Peter's grip, overly firm. Mike noticed.
"Michael Bancroft," Mike said, extending his hand with a hint of caution. "Call me Mike."
Peter's eyes flicked between the two of them, his smile curving ever so slightly. "Knight and Bancroft," he echoed. "Interesting. Never heard of you. I have heard of Roman Lockwood… but Knight?" His voice curled around the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Can't believe my sister would choose a nobody."
Roman bristled. "What?"
Mike grabbed his arm. "Easy."
Peter stepped closer, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Relax. Just a statement of fact." He placed a hand on Roman's shoulder. "Still, you should be proud. Even a nobody can look like a somebody, it's all about how you carry yourself."
Roman peeled Peter's hand off with calm venom. "You speak like you've had firsthand experience," he shot back coolly. "Be careful with Daddy's money… he could decide to pull the plug, and you'll be just another rich kid with nothing but entitlement… a nobody."
He turned to Mike. "Let's go. I don't want to keep my bride waiting."
Mike shot Peter a tight grin, then followed Roman, who walked off with purpose, jaw clenched.
Behind them, Peter stood motionless, replaying Roman's words. A thin smile cracked across his face.
Mike leaned in. "There goes your excuse to bail."
Roman didn't stop walking. "So that clown wins? No way! Now I have to do this. I'm going to show that trust-fund parasite what real power looks like."
His fists clenched. "You coming?"
—
Inside, behind the heavy oak doors of her childhood bedroom…
The soft click of makeup brushes, the faint scent of jasmine, and the hush of satin whispered around Athena as she sat facing the ornate vanity mirror. Her gown shimmered like crushed starlight, hugging her frame with elegance and defiance. Her expression was unreadable; composed, but far from calm.
Ivy sat behind her on the edge of the bed, silent. Watching. Worry pulsed in her chest like a second heartbeat.
Twenty years. Twenty years of witnessing Athena's bold choices, wild schemes, and unshakable independence, but this… this was different.
"All done," the makeup artist said cheerfully, stepping back.
Athena tilted her head, admiring her reflection. "Well?" she asked, turning slightly. "What do you think, Ivy?"
Ivy blinked, her throat tightening. "Oh, Athena… you're beautiful. Like a dream. Like an angel."
A soft laugh escaped Athena's lips. "Then why do you look like someone just died?"
Ivy stood and walked to her, smoothing invisible wrinkles from Athena's sleeve. "Because I'm terrified for you," she whispered. "I don't want you to make a mistake you can't undo."
"Oh, Ivy, can you stop worrying and just enjoy this?" Athena said, then she shrugged lightly. "You saw him. Polished. Respectful. Humble. He understands the assignment, and that's enough."
"But Athena—"
The door burst open with a sharp creak before Ivy could finish speaking. Henry, Vivian, and Peter strode in like an army entering a battlefield.
"Out," Peter barked, glaring at Ivy and the makeup artist.
Athena stood, spine straight, chin high. "Ivy stays."
"Athena, I can wait outside—" Ivy began, voice trembling.
"I said she stays." Athena's voice rang out, commanding.
Henry gave a dismissive wave, and the makeup artist scurried out. Ivy hesitated until Athena reached for her hand. She took it, standing firm beside her best friend.
Henry didn't waste time. "I'll be direct," he said, arms crossed. "Why would you pick a nobody for a husband? Roman Knight? What were you thinking?"
Vivian cut in, eyes cold. "A gold digger, more like. You're giving away everything we built."
"Father, I think this is your mistake," Peter scoffed. "You should've married one of our investors. Someone worthy. Not some random name from a bargain-bin fairytale."
The room pulsed with heat. Athena's fingers curled around Ivy's.
"Are you done?" she asked, her voice tight, barely holding.
Peter sneered. "What does that even mean?"
Athena ignored him, locking eyes with Henry. "You wanted me married. I complied. That man out there, Roman Knight, is the man I chose."
She took a breath, then added, "He's the man I love."
Ivy felt the ground tilt as her head snapped toward Athena, eyes wide. She almost choked on the shock. Love? Athena could have meant that? This must just be another war tactic in high heels. Hell, she barely knew the man.
"Whether you approve or not," Athena continued, voice strengthening, "I'm marrying him. And I suggest you all plaster on those plastic smiles for the guests, because nothing you say will stop me."
Tears glimmered in her eyes, desperate to fall, but she blinked them back. Not now. Not in front of them.
Henry stepped forward, face tight. "Then you should know that I will never accept him. He will never be part of this family."
Athena moved closer, her eyes fierce and glistening. A single tear slipped free. "Then go ahead. Walk out there and tell your precious guests that you're disowning your daughter and taking away her happiness, all on her wedding day."
The room fell to a standstill. Henry's nostrils flared. Rage shimmered off him like heat from a furnace.
Athena didn't flinch. Not this time. She stood in the ashes of their expectations, unapologetic and burning with her own fire.